


the bible didn’t mention us

by Amie33



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/pseuds/Amie33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You would think their names would be known by all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the bible didn’t mention us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [your_bespoke_psychopath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_bespoke_psychopath/gifts).



> I know I haven't posted a lot recently, but don't worry I have been writing. I have a fic today, another one tomorrow, and if you're lucky maybe a last one before the end of the week. And I still have this one that's waiting for a title. And also a project that is going to take a bit longer. So, no, sorry, I'm not tired of writing yet, and you'll still have me for a while.  
> Big thanks to Sam for her beta. And to Marta for her inspiration, help and encouragements. Also, congrats, Master ;)

##### “ _history books forgot about us and the bible didn’t mention us” -_ Samson _, Regina Spektor_

 

You would think their names would be known by all. You would think you could find mentions of them scattered around in every book, next to the heroes’, white wings on their backs and cups of myrrh in their hands. You would think you could see them on the walls of fame, high and written in golden letters. You would think that children learn their stories at school, learn their names by heart with the presidents and kings and saviours of the nations. You would think that there are celebrations every year to glorify them and thank them for their good.

Except you won’t find any of this. This is everything you _won’t_ find about them.

 

You won’t hear anybody discussing them in plain sight.

They are in the corner of the paintings, their faces hidden. They are in the songs. They are on the walls, half erased by time and sun, long forgotten. They are footprints in the sand, blown away by the wind. They are drawings on the beach, drowned by the tide. Their names are murmured at night, when the doors are closed and the children deep asleep. They are legends, mysteries never solved.

They are said to be gods. They are said to be demons. They are said to be immortals and powerful. They are the good wizards in the fairy tales, or the dark forces threatening the kingdoms. They are a picture between two folds of a magazine that nobody believes is real. They are sentences in the diary of a madman. They are like flashlights, seen but already vanished, long forgotten.

Someone says they have heard them. Someone says they have seen them. Someone says they know the truth about them. Someone says their parents have met them. Someone says they have helped them. Someone says they have stood and watched them as they fought. Someone says -- words, words, words, but not a proof.

 

They come hand in hand. They fight back to back. The Time Lord and his Wife. The Goddess and her Husband. They come out of nowhere and pass in the blink of an eye.

They are merciless. Kings shiver and bow in front of them, wishing they had never met them. They bring armies down on their knees with only a few words. Their hands are empty but their voice is raging.

 

You won’t find them in history books, but they are more powerful than any tangible event. The sculptures of them have no caption. The pictures of them are always blurry. Their names in the books are always changed, transformed, shaped into something new. The mystery is their best weapon, silence their etiquette.

Nations tremble at the mention of their stories. Cities are built upon their name. Deserts were created under their footprints. Ruins have been raised where they fought. Gold shines when they lay and rested. People say their names with both fear and adoration.

Some says they are angels, coming from the sky to bring peace and prosperity. Some die blaming them, demons coming from the ground to bring everything down, ashes following their path.

 

Don’t believe anything you hear about them. Don’t trust anyone who talks about them. Don’t take anything you read as granted. But never think nothing is true.

 

You won’t find them in books. They are engraved in the stones, carried by the wind. Earth sings their songs, and mountains laid their poems. They are in the minds. They are in the souls.

 

Everywhere.

 

Nowhere.

 


End file.
